


At a Crossroads

by foreverHenry919



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Comedy, Fear, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 17:03:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9394775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverHenry919/pseuds/foreverHenry919
Summary: Dr. Henry Morgan has held many different jobs during his 200 plus years on God's green earth. Gravedigger, singing waiter, portrait photographer (all the while, doing his best to remain behind the camera) gold miner, horse trainer, magician, and, at different times, a vendor of ice, fruit and fish. Some had been more exciting than others, but he had gained valuable insight from all of them.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarShield1943](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarShield1943/gifts).



> This is a sequel of sorts to "A Cut above the Rest", in response to StarShield1943's comment/request: "If you would, or have the inspiration, please continue this with other jobs. I'd love to read your take on Henry throughout his life and other jobs."
> 
> I do not own "Forever" or any of its characters.

Fall of 1938, Elkharte, Indiana ...

Henry Morgan inspected his uniform once more. He felt the weight of his gear in his hand and recalled instructions on its use from his all-too-rushed training. He eyed the others around him and nodded, as did they to him and to each other. It felt good to be part of a dedicated group, all of them brave, all of them determined to do their best. Despite the rushed training and the fact that he'd been a last-minute replacement, he felt as though he fit in quite well amongst them. The feeling was mutual, he knew, and it was much appreciated by him. It had been a long time. Not since his service in the Great War (World War I) had he felt such comraderie.

There was undeniable danger, though, from either injury or even death. Injury? He could always recover from that. Death? Well ... that was ... complicated. But he could recover from that, too (unbeknownst to any of the others). He would do all that he could in order to avoid both the former and the latter. Especially the latter. He had now joined the ranks of an honorable profession and he intended to stay in it for a while.

It was the waiting that got to you, though. The beads of sweat on the brows of the others, indeed, on his own brow, was painfully evident. As well, the sweaty palms, the uptick in heart rate, and the increasingly shallow breathing. The waiting. Expectation. The anticipatory buildup, the anxiety. Whatever the label, it's all led up to this moment. The moment when it was you (collective you) against them. As yet unseen and faintly heard but strongly felt. Just over there. Only feet away. They waited with bated breath for their turn to swarm. For their chance to dance around, over and under you, outwitting you at every twist and turn, no matter how boldly you held your ground. That was the task at hand. He and the others stood ready to meet it. Daily. Twice, thrice daily. And whenever called upon.

"Almost time," he heard someone say. They all braced themselves. A handful few, spread out at different points, against God only knew how many.

"We're ready for 'em," someone else replied. They all grunted in agreement and dug in. And waited.

"Remember," their leader announced loudly, "they'll be intent upon wreaking havoc. It's our jobs to make sure that that doesn't happen."

They all shifted in their stance, digging in further.

"Now!" the leader shouted as the alert rang out and the doors that contained the horde flung open.

Henry watched almost in awe as the horde of schoolchildren poured out of the one-story, brick school building, yelling and screaming, their mouths open, teeth bared, hair flying, feet thundering, as they all advanced towards him. His breath shuddered in and out of his slightly open mouth now. He felt the adrenaline rush but it was also a bit too much for some of his colleagues who cried out in fear and threw down their crosswalk signs, abandoning their posts.

Cowards! Bloody cowards! But not he. Just let one of those tough fifth graders try to knock him down. And, by Jimminy or cricket, they were going to cross the street within the crosswalk lines! It was his sworn duty to see to that! Oh, the life of a school crossing guard, he sighed.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like it, StarShield1943, and everyone else.


End file.
